


Index

by Piinutbutter



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Flirting, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 12:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/pseuds/Piinutbutter
Summary: Marcus' friends always ragged on him for falling in love with the wrong people. Wasn't his fault he had a thing for women who could snap his neck with one hand tied behind their back.





	Index

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TanyaReed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/gifts).

Haven Booksellers was not your average bookstore. Sure, when you first stepped foot inside the tastefully ramshackle building, you’d be faced with a small selection of fiction and nonfiction titles. And there certainly were customers - tourists, mostly - who wandered in, bought a book or two, and were none the wiser to what lurked behind the small town small business facade.

But most of their customers knew to ring the bell at the front desk and ask if they had any self-help titles in stock.

Like the young woman today. Marcus, ever the friendly attendant, smiled and led her behind the Employees Only door. There, the shop’s owner waited.

Ms. Wendover was a deceptive woman. She knew how to dress and sit to make herself look unassuming, to hide the layers of muscle and scar that marked her as an experienced fighter. She wanted people to underestimate her, just as Marcus had, the first time they met. Marcus had learned the error of his ways when his new boss had shoved a knife into the table, narrowly missing the webbing of his thumb and forefinger, and asked if Marcus was prepared for the reality of working for her.

Marcus had never been more ready for anything in his life.

Calling Ms. Wendover a hitwoman wasn’t quite accurate. Nor was she an exorcist. She handled the trickier cases of supernatural troublemaking. If a pretty young person had caught the eye of an incubus who wouldn’t leave them alone, Ms. Wendover went to rough the demon up. If a farmer’s cows were going missing with the full moon, Ms. Wendover went werewolf hunting. Marcus only assisted on her missions insomuch as he was her chaffeur. Mostly, he acted the part of secretary, managing the bookstore front and making sure no one wasted Ms. Wendover’s time with cases that could easily be solved by talking to the police.

In the year Marcus had been working for her, Ms. Wendover had given no indication of having a romantic partner of any sort. In fairness, she didn’t seem like the type for romance in the first place. But Marcus was young and ambitious, and there was nothing to be lost by trying.

Straight-up flirting wasn’t the route to go, Marcus knew that much. So he took a tactical approach.

Ms. Wendover liked things neat and in their place. It was no surprise when Marcus walked into work one morning and was met with his boss lightly smacking him on the head with a paperback.

“Morning,” she said. “You left this out last night.”

“Did I?” Marcus feigned innocence, taking the copy of _Love Blooms in the Heart_ from her. “My bad. I’ll be sure not to do that again.”

That was a lie. That night, he left _In Love with a Monster Girl_ laying by the foot of Ms. Wendover’s desk. The night after, it was _How to Love So Much It Hurts_. Marcus was getting a bruise from all the books whacked against his head (there was no malice in the gesture, but Ms. Wendover often forgot her own strength). He was a little nervous about the damage a thick hardcover like _Living, Loving, Longing_ could do, but when he walked into work that morning, Ms. Wendover had the book cracked open, peering down through her reading glasses.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she said in way of greeting, “I’d think you were trying to tell me something.”

Marcus’ heart pounded. “And if I am?”

Ms. Wendover closed the book and folded her glasses. She raised an eyebrow at him, but there was a smile in her eyes.

“Why don’t you clean the bathroom while I think about my answer to that?”


End file.
